Branded
by Selaena
Summary: That he is in every breath you take, every nightmare, that every accomplishment and failure is branded with his name. That there is no Halina Potter without Tom Riddle...


BRANDED

You never want them to figure it out. How much he means to you, how much of him _is_ you. He created you. Gave you the confidence and the burning need for _defiance_ that makes you who you are. That he is in every breath you take, every nightmare, that every accomplishment and failure is branded with his name. That there is no Halina Potter without Tom Riddle.

You're the best at defence in your year, and everyone, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape, they believe it's because you like it. That's not true, you have to be good at it, you have to _win_. You refuse to be lesser, especially to _him._ So you train harder in secret, learning spells to old for you, dangerous magic you're too young to cast. Because you will not bow and he will not spare you. And each year your magic and knowledge grows. You push yourself harder, you have to _be_ better, and then get up and do it again. Your spells have to be faster, more powerful, more _devastating._ Because the next time you see him, you will mark him as he has you. You want him to bleed, to be in pain, to be so furiously, tempestuously angry that ever time he hears your name he shivers with _something._ This man who has defined your life, you will brand him as surely as he has branded you. You will do whatever it takes, because he could kill you one day, but you want every half-heard spell to scream your name, every whisper of wind your breath to at his neck, the same as his is for you.

People praise your natural born talent, say its to be expected of the girl-who-lived. No else realizes it, that you are the same, the two of you. No one knows or respects how hard you have had to work, have to work to get where you are. That you broke your arm 7 times trying to learn a curse that kept exploding back at you. Knocked yourself unconscious from magical exhaustion. That you have been wearing Glamours to hide the bruises and cuts that cover your too skinny body, because you can't afford to have the public lose faith in you. In the end, both of you are degraded to just titles; the Girl-Who-Lived, and The Dark Lord. It is not Halina that killed the Basilisk, it was the child saviour. The Girl-Who-Lived cannot die because she is legend, as is the Dark Lord. But, it is Halina who feels the unbridled savage victory just from surviving a single day, and you share it with him, Tom. Your continuing existence echoing through your scar between the two of you every time the sun rises and sets.

Nothing makes you feel more alive that when the two of you duel, and its a dance. A brutal, cruel, dance that you share just between the two of you. When Dumbledore and Voldemort duel, it is almost showing off. Who can cast the most complicated magic, prove that they are the most powerful after all. Voldemort never loses control, has never truly been afraid. Voldemort and Dumbledore duel like to powerful leaders. When you and Tom duel, for he has been Tom since your second year, it is that of two feral predators. He cannot keep his barriers up around you, because you are not trying to kill him, no, you are trying to _slaughter_ him. The two of you fight like the neglected children you are, the ones who starved and shivered on cold nights. Who hate the world and everyone it. Who fought for every piece of food, and swallowed your pride to run from those bigger than you. But you can protect yourself now and so can he. So you spin between his spells, and they pass over your skin like the finest of blades. You are bleeding, and gasping in pain, but so is he. The only finesse is that of your brutality. There is no grace, or respect, or tradition. You fight dirty, cheat, use illegal spells, aim for the places where he is already injured. You thrill in the feeling of harsh spells he casts back at you, because he's not holding back, his face is pulled a snarl, and you know yours is in a feral grin. Your magic twists and pulls and _claws_ at each other. You can't _breathe_ , and the magic is so thick in the air that it burns your skin, and your _free._ You are not restrained by titles or feelings or even morals. There is no time for thought, just instinct and reflex. There is just you and him and your magic as it clashes.

Then suddenly it is over, and you stand over his dead body. You can't tell the people you love that it is sorrow and not relief that makes the tears slide down your cheeks. Because the person who pushed you, challenged you, the only one who understood you is gone. You never really believed that you would be the one left standing alone at the end. That it would be _him_ who couldn't keep up with _you._ And suddenly your irrationally angry, and betrayed because _how_ _dare he._ How dare he define who you are and then leave. You can feel pieces of your soul crumbling because now theres no-one, no-one left who knows who Halina Potter. Halina Potter dies with Tom Riddle, was released into freedom that was their duel.

The-Girl-Who-Lived is the one who stands over Lord Voldemort's body.

 ** _So tell me what you think! Its a little different then my other stuff. But I always wondered how Harry would deal with Voldemort being gone, but i felt it was easier to write from the perspective of a girl._**


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